Forever, your Gal Friday
by IKnowUKnowIKnow
Summary: I've been so inspired by the number of stories about the Cooler episode. I've seen the clips and know my story isn't how it turns out, still wanted to share. I'm listing all 4 chapters at once so I don't chicken out (or rewrite 50 times). I'd love to hear your reviews, but if you don't have time, I hope you enjoy. I don't own New Girl, but I adore it all. Thanks IKuKIK
1. Nick POV

It hadn't even been a day and a half since he'd kissed her. Jess had fled the loft early the morning after, only coming by once to pick up some clothes. He didn't believe for one second that it was a coincidence he was working at the time.

When he couldn't stand not knowing if she was okay, he casually asked Schmidt why Jess hadn't been around. He said that she and Cece had stopped by to pick up some things. Cece told him that Jess and Sam had broken up. When Nick pressed for more detail, Schmidt told him he didn't know who had done the breaking, but Jess would be staying with Cece until she no longer hated men.

Shit. He'd screwed up, big time. He still didn't even totally understand why he kissed her. He couldn't blame the alcohol, he was way past sober by that point. He couldn't blame the game; it was over the second he walked out on that ledge. And he couldn't blame it on sleepwalking, because he knew he'd never fallen asleep.

If he was being honest, he'd wanted her to break up with Sam for him. He'd wanted her to throw her arms around him again and tell him that it had always been him. Then they'd ride off into a glorious sunset together.

But this was reality and those kinds of things didn't happen to Nick Miller.

* * *

After talking to Schmidt he was going out of his mind, killing himself to come up with a way to fix what he had broken. Maybe he could get her to see that he was just regular old Nick Miller, not romance novel material like Sam – who, let's be honest, totally was. Maybe she would snap out of it and realize Sam was who she was meant to be with. So he sent her a text. "hey roomie, when you comin' back? i can't handle S & W's current debate bout chandeliers by myself."

Ten minutes later, another text. "seriously, i m now pro chandeliers, but anti wheelbarrows. WTF/SOS!?"

After the eighth pathetic cry-for-attention text, he felt defeated and simply sent her, "I'm sorry, Jess. I screwed up. Can we talk?"

* * *

It had been an hour since his last message and she still hadn't replied. Winston was at work and Schmidt was out, doing god knows what. The loft was always quiet when no one was around, but tonight it felt empty. He tried watching TV, playing solitaire, fixing the draft from the front window; nothing was distracting enough to keep him from thinking about her. He even considered drawing _her_ face on a melon so he could practice "the talk".

At that ridiculous thought, he got up and went to his room. Dropping onto his bed, he grabbed a tennis ball and started bouncing it off the wall. On the third throw, the ball hit a nail and ricocheted into his computer, knocking it to the floor. "Damn it!"

He picked up the computer, checking for damage; thankfully it was still in one piece. His eyes fell upon his latest unfinished work about a certain zombie detective…

* * *

Two beers and forty five minutes later, he pressed print. He folded the paper, stuffed it in an envelope and wrote "Jessica Night" on the front. Before he could change his mind, he walked into her room, placed it on the bed and ran back out. Locking himself is his room for the night, he was thankful for the early shift tomorrow. If he could just keep himself away from her room until then, he wouldn't chicken out.


	2. Jess POV

She didn't know when or if she'd come back to the loft permanently. Everything that had happened since that night was a blur. She'd broken things off with Sam the next morning, telling her self it was the right thing to do. He had taken a chance with her, for her, and she'd blown it. Nick may have initiated that kiss, but she'd kissed him back. _Really_ kissed him back and it had left her breathless.

* * *

After Sam had left she went to see Cece. She was sympathetic with regards to the breakup, but didn't even try to hide her I-told-you-so smile when Jess started ranting about Nick. They spent the day talking about everything and when Jess realized Nick would be at work, they went to the loft to pack an overnight bag.

When she came out of her room she saw Schmidt and Cece talking. She considered halting the conversation before Cece could tell him about the breakup, but for some reason she didn't. Maybe she wanted to punish Nick, knowing that Schmidt would eventually let the cat out of the bag. On the ride back to Cece's place she felt a little guilty, because she wasn't a vindictive person. But she wasn't immune to being angry and the thought of Nick getting worked up about the situation gave her a little bit of a thrill.

Cece convinced her they needed to be single girls for the rest of the day. They went for manicures, Jess opting for a blush colored polish and a tiny crystal on each of her pinky fingers. They dressed up and went to a fancy restaurant, eating mostly desserts and enjoying a couple of cocktails. When they got home, Cece put in a romcom that Jess quickly lost interest in and fell asleep on her friend's shoulder.

* * *

When Jess woke up the next morning, scratch that, early afternoon, she looked a mess. Hair ratted up around her face, mascara masking her eyes, and nylons that must have caught on something while she slept fitfully on the couch. She knew Cece had already left for an early photo-shoot, but had promised to be back later in the evening to spend more time with her.

She grabbed up her phone to check her email and she saw that she had a text from Nick. Before she could catch herself, she was smiling at the ridiculous message. No! She was supposed to be angry with him; he had made such a mess of things. Turning her world upside down in a matter of 20 seconds.

She ignored the second text that came in, but by the fifth one she couldn't help herself. Each one seemed to lessen the feeling of disquiet that had settled over her. But she couldn't bring herself to reply back to him; she wasn't ready to just forget what had happened and go back to being who they'd always been. As she was reading his last text, Cece walked through the door.

The look on Jess's face told her it was time to stop ducking the feelings and start talking. She rummaged around in her purse, pulling out the "travel" feelings stick Jess had given her after she and Schmidt broke up. Walking to her best friend, she handed it to her, sat down next to her and asked, "What are you going to do about it?"


	3. Jessica Night

***Note, I had hoped to show some of Nick's "weird" writing style with this, crossing out some words and adding in others, but they didn't pull up the way I had hoped. So anywhere you see XX, he would have crossed the word out and anywhere you see ^, he's added a word or phrase.**

She entered the loft quietly and was met with complete silence. Immediately, she started second guessing herself. Maybe Nick had given up when she didn't reply to him. He could be out with Schmidt and Winston nursing a drink or buying drinks for nurses. Rushing about her room, tossing more clothing into her overnight bag, she didn't even notice the envelope lying on her bed. She started to panic, she couldn't be there when they got back, it would be awkward and she no longer felt ready to face him. She was just about to leave when she remembered her pillow. She stood there trying to decide whether or not to grab it until she realized this internal debate was taking longer than just going and getting it. She tossed her bag down by the door and ran back. She snatched the pillow and just as she was turning away, she did a comical double take. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she slowly picked up the envelope. All thoughts of escape gone from her mind, she ran her fingers over the hand written letters. Jessica Night.

* * *

Like many nights before, this had been a XXcrazy rideXX roller coaster of highs and lows. Disco techs, calls for help, mellon clones, historical hilarity, and desperate cult-like chanting. He found himself between a ridiculously small, yet XXannoyingXX aggravating, rock and an iron curtain-like hard place. He had wanted to "suck it up and French" her, like she'd yelled, but even with his trench coat of confidance, he had fled the scene like a lily livered jellyfish.

Out on that ledge he thought he would see his life flash before his eyes, but instead of watching his younger self fake a diabetic coma or yell at the neighborhood kids like a XXwrinkled curmudgeonXX grumpy old man, it was all about her. All her stupid faces; with smiles that brighten a room and eyes that sparkle like dancing fireflies. All her absurd voices and singing that made you want to scream "enough already", but at the same time make you wish you knew the words so you could sing along. All her corny not-touching hugs and feeling sticks and fake teeth. And pretty dreses and kind gestures and ^unconditional^ friendship.

Once his feet were firmly on the ground and the wind was no longer blowing cold and uncomfortably up his boxer shorts, he was finally able to breathe. To get back to reality; where they were friends - who were sometimes attracted to each other - but didn't kiss. And he was sure that would be enough for him, as long as she would always be around. But then the remarkably handsome Doctor Sam took the sharpest of knives and fatally wounded that XXtheoryXX XXbeliefXX conviction by reminding him he didn't know what he was missing. ^He knew she wouldn't always be around; someday what they had would inevitably end and he would go the rest of his life never really knowing what he was missing.^

With a heavy heart and slumped shoulders; he drug himself to his dark room and collapsed on to his cold bed. It was to big and to firm. Tossing and turning he prayed for sleep to take him. Just as he was about to fall into a post alcoholic beverage-induced sleep, he had heard her voice. XX^Like a mermaid calling to him calling him over a cerulean ocean.^XX "Nick", it softly whispered. He was drawn to her, his shoeless feet shuffling him ever closer to her.

She needed him to save her, not Schmidt or Winston, nor (not?) even Doctor Sam. In one foul swoop, he galantly solved the mystery of the Calabasas Scratcher and even though he had to sacrafice his trench coat, it was worth it to know she was safe.

In that dimly lit hallway, they laughed together; regaling the story of Trench Coat Nick and mourning his loss. Had anyone witnessed them in the hallway that night, they might have thought what he did next was just a last second impulse. It was and it wasn't. When she faced him, his hands went clammy, he felt like he had to swallow the XXchainsawXX giant marshmellow in his throat. His stomach suddenly started to feel queasy and he couldn't stand still. His resolve was slipping, he was being pulled by an ^enormous^ undercurrent of nerves and he had to keep looking away from her.

But in that last instance as she said her good night, he looked down at her. Truly drinking her in, her eyes, her lips, the soft curves of her body. And then she was turning away from him. It all hit him like an avalanche washing over him; he needed to know, if only this one time. His jaw set with determination, he grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She didn't even have a XXnanosecondXX split second to be confused by his actions. He simply closed the gap between them, lowered his head and found her lips with his.

Like XXsticking his finger in a socketXX an electrical shock he was overwhelmed by the intense craving that exploded between them. In an instant she had gone from the lips he was kissing to the lips that were kissing him. Her arms were around his neck and his hands roamed over her body, processing every sensation. Like waves of the ocean, pulling her closer, up to her tippy toes, then crashing down against her. When he felt her arms dropping away from his neck he was sure she would put an end to it all, but instead he felt her hand grasp the back of his arm pulling him closer to her. With a shaky breath he pulled his lips away to focus his desires; willing her to look at him. When she didn't look up, he worried he came on too strong. Hoping to reveal his true intentions, he placed two fleting kisses on her lips and moved out of her space waiting for her to meet his eyes.

She looked XXdazedXX stunned when she finally looked up at him and even more so when he spoke those five words that meant so much more than words. He stood perfectly still, staring XXdeeply inXX intensely into her eyes, for what felt like an eternity, but he knew he had to leave her before XXthe fairytale endedXX reality sunk in. With one last look, he dropped his head and walked away. He could feel the ghosts of her fingertips as he released her hand to escape the space she consumed. The doorway ahead of him never seemed so cold and ominous, but he trudged through it, figuratively shutting the door on that chapter of his life.

Even with the pessamist in him, settling in for a long night, he had one final thought. Maybe, until Doctor Sam or Fancyman or some combination of them both – ^perhaps even a bit of a Trench Coat Nick-type^ – takes her away from him, she'll still be his gal Friday.

The End

Julius Pepperwood (AKA Nicholas Miller)


	4. Just shy of an A

With shaky hands, she closed the envelope and wrote Julius Pepperwood across the front. Taking a deep breath, her heart pounding like crazy, she willed herself forward. She bent down and started counting to three, but stopped, softly smiling to herself. She didn't need a countdown, because even though she was completely terrified, she'd never been so sure of herself. She slid the envelope under his door and walked back to her room. She closed her door without looking back.

* * *

He barely opened his eyes against the offending sunlight starting to fill his room and turned onto his other side with a groan. After a few minutes he surrendered to his wakefulness. Rolling on to his back and stretching with a groan; he expected to have slept terribly. Oddly enough though, he felt refreshed. Looking at the clock he was surprised to see that it was only 7:00 AM. Running a hand across his face he swung his legs over the side of the bed and lazily stood to head to the bathroom.

Just as he reached for the doorknob his foot touched something. Bending down to pick it up, he had a moment of dread that she had found his letter and threw it back at him without reading it. But then he noticed it was not the same envelope he had deposited on her bed the night before. On the front, written in her girly handwriting, it said Julius Pepperwood.

Sitting down at his desk where the light was a little better, he slid his finger under the flap to open it. His shoulders slumped at the sight of the contents. He didn't even need to unfold it to know she had indeed returned it to him. With a heavy heart, he tossed it on his desk and got up to leave. Halfway across the room, a thought occurred to him. Why would she switch the envelope? Curiosity had him holding the letter once again, undoing the trifold. At the bottom of the page, in red marker, he discovered comments written in her same girly handwriting.

* * *

B+

I really enjoyed your descriptive imagery, but your use of proper tense and punctuation could use a little polishing. Additionally, don't be afraid to use the spell check, it's pretty great.

Oh and just a thought…what if that isn't where the story ends? What if the book just goes on, like a fairytale that doesn't even need an end. Think about it.

Jessica Night (AKA Jessica Day, forever your Gal Friday)


End file.
